Building software always starts with a beautiful delusion. You think you’re just taking a neat little script that prints satellite passes to a terminal and giving it a pretty web face. But the second you try to turn it into a real app, the code fights back. You modularize the math, build a safety net so the app doesn’t crash if the external tracking servers go down, and think you’re golden. Then you try to make it smart enough to track things based on where a user is actually standing, and you accidentally unleash an infinite reload nightmare that traps your browser in a loop, forcing you to write a literal memory-check in JavaScript just to stop the page from having a total meltdown. Once you break out of that loop, you realize tracking things in space means dealing with the absolute chaos of time itself. Space math lives in UTC, which is completely useless to a human looking out a window. So you find yourself wrestling with system timezone databases just to translate those raw numbers into normal, local clock times. At the same time, you build a massive, beautifully categorized dropdown menu to track everything from the ISS to random space junk—only to watch the interface develop instant amnesia, resetting itself back to the default option every single time the page refreshes. Fixing it requires writing a client-side script that acts like a digital detective, checking the web address to force the menu to remember what you clicked. But the absolute worst part? The ghosts in the machine. You try to track specific ships, and the app just returns a blank screen. You spend hours digging through raw text lines only to find out the tracking database is silently laced with hidden, non-breaking space characters. They look identical to normal spaces to a human eye, but to a computer, they break strict string matching entirely. After aggressively scrubbing those invisible characters out of the memory loops, you finally cross the finish line by hooking up a live countdown timer that ticks down to the exact second a satellite crosses your sky. You started with a text printout; you ended up surviving a relentless gauntlet of infrastructure fires.